Feed the injured heart
That it becomes strong again
~~ Relearning to love
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Silence
Silence does not mean I don’t care.
Perhaps I’m stifling a self-righteous opinion
Or maybe I’m just listening like a good friend does.
I don’t have all the answers nor are any required.
Your questions are rhetorical,
Simply statements to self,
You already know the answers.
It isn’t my place to judge,
Only to offer advice when asked for it,
My judgemental days are over.
I don’t walk in your shoes,
I don’t feel what you feel,
I haven’t lived your life,
Struggled your struggles,
Traveled your rutted path.
Instead I offer my silence
…As a show of love and support.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Look Into The Sun (Haiku)
Look into the sun
Shafts of light point to heaven
~~ A natural peace
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Not Unlike Any Other Day
Not unlike any other day;
Venturing a noon day stroll.
Characteristic music playing in my ears
Eerily absent as I make my way.
Preferring to listen to songs playing around me;
The rustling of leaves,
The birds in the trees,
Mariachi blaring from a passing car,
The sound of machinery
Busying otherwise idle hands,
The sounds of steel pipe clanging,
All music to my ears,
All sounds I would have missed
If they were muffled by my Beats.
How interesting I found this orchestra,
Each playing to its own metronome.
None were less sweet than the other
Though how vastly different the pitch.
Perhaps this is the beginning a new routine,
One in which I take notice.
Enjoying both the sights and sounds
Of the world that surrounds me
Instead of drowning it out with modern gadgetry.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Moss Slippery and Wet Beneath My Feet
Moss, slippery and wet beneath my feet,
Covering the rock and root tangled path I traverse.
Though drenched to the bone I am in ecstasy
For my love awaits by the lake shore.
The melodic sound of the wren announces my arrival,
Yet I am unable to discern whether she is happy or agitated.
No matter, through the mist I spy my lover’s shawl
Resting lazily on a fallen oak.
I call to her, but I am offered no reply.
How perplexing is this predicament.
The mirror like stillness of the lake reveals no trace,
No footsteps point her direction.
What supernal event has befallen her?
Horrible graphic images come to mind.
Did she drown,
Did she fall victim to some unknown villain,
Was she disheartened,
Choosing to stray off as some palliative remedy?
Alas, I am alone,
The fragrant scent of patchouli wafting from her shawl,
This–the only sign she had ever existed,
But for the perfect masterpiece of her kept
By the artist, that is my mind.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco~~
Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle #8
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle #8
Who am I but me?
I thought that this poem was both powerful and very personal. I enjoyed it greatly and thought I would share it with all of you.
I am me, none other,
not my mother’s weaknesses
nor the sins of my father
but the qualities of my mother,
strength of my grandmother
pigheadedness,
impatience blessed
my fortitude
and sometimes
with some solitude;
when o’er the top
kinsfolk distressed.
I am perfect
in my imperfection
I`m an ordinary human being,
doing the best I can
with utmost dedication.
I love to help, care
listen with compassion
giving, feeds me double rations
so much more do I receive.
I am female
woman, all the time
insisting I be true
to my heart`s desires,
my need for intimacy
my thirst for sexuality
if society permitted
I would not have to store
said desires in a drawer
No indeed!
they’d call me an exciting player
rather than promiscuous stayer
and…
I’m also a lady the rest of the time;
I am not English
nor am I French
I am Canadian,
then…
View original post 156 more words
Retaliation
Retaliation
Or at least the thought of it
Over little things
For this I have no excuse
Except for being human
I long to be more
Much more than this petty man
One that’s full of love
Unconsciously forgiving
WIth not one expectation
Even this is hard
This one solitary thing
Before the gauntlet
It is called being human
This one–I cannot escape
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Each Tick Of The Clock (Tanka)
Each tick of the clock
Signifies a new “present”
No past, no future
There is only this moment
Why not make the most of it
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Sticks And Stones
Sticks and stones may break one’s bones,
But words most certainly hurt.
Bones do heal as time has shown,
While words eternal pain can exert.
Some will use age as a valid excuse
For exhibition of poor behavior.
Even if you were some eccentric recluse,
This still wouldn’t serve as your savior.
All the money in this world does not buy you the right
To treat others as something less human.
On judgement day you will see the shortness of sight,
And your legacy will be seeking absolution.
Your racism only serves to sever the bonds
You should have with your sisters and brothers.
Claiming foul play when they choose to respond,
Treating them not as friends, but as others.
Bury your head in the proverbial sand,
Denying your views are archaic.
You won’t get away with the slap of a hand,
For in hate and prejudice you partake.
You’d think that these words would have long ago past
Into the annals of far ancient history.
Yet time and again they rear their ugly heads,
Why to me remains an elusive mystery.
Let bygone-be-bygones aren’t we one and the same,
Dealing with the hand we’ve been given.
Helping one another is the name of the game,
To live in love in this life that we’re living.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Obsessed As A Culture
Obsessed as a culture,
Three hundred channels of voyeurism,
Crack to the masses for which there is no cure.
Our appetites are voracious,
The more they feed us
The more we swallow.
We are being dumbed down,
All in the name of entertainment.
Fifteen minutes of fame,
No talent required,
We buy into this formula.
Commonsense is on the decline,
We are no longer educationally superior,
Our kids instead strive to top the antics of “Jack Ass”
And long to live in the “Big Brother” house,
High aspirations indeed.
This is our future.
We welcome it with open arms
And our junk food appetites.
I guess we get what we deserve.
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Dom DiFrancesco 